


My Ugly Boyfriend

by orphan_account



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girls say Gokudera is handsome. I say, no he isn't, not really. Girls say Gokudera is talented. I say throwing firecrackers isn't a talent. Girls say Gokudera would make the perfect husband. I wonder if they're joking. Girls sigh and say, "I wish Gokudera was mine." I smile and say, "Too late. He's mine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Ugly Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely use first person present tense in writing, but because it's fun, I'd like to try it more often. I like writing in Yamamoto's point of view because he's perky and upbeat. I tried to incorporate a lot of sound effects into the writing, because Yamamoto seems to be fond of them. I liked the part in the anime when he was teaching Tsuna how to swim. "Just hop in, bloop, then kick, like, splash!"

The public pool is really pretty in the summertime.

All right, that probably sounds funny. You wouldn't usually think of a pool being pretty. You know, cold cement all around it, weird brownish goop stuck between the floor tiles, and a chain-link fence holding all the screaming kids inside. But when nobody is around but me and my friends, it's nice. I notice the shimmery water and the crisp breeze that smells like chlorine a _lot_ more clearly when everything's quiet and there's no one practically laying on top of me.

I'm sitting on top of the fence right now, dangling my legs over the side. Up this high, I can see the whole pool. The water looks like a broken mirror, reflecting the sunshine. From my point of view, I can't even tell that the water's actually green. Little waves with foam riding on them flap across the water until they're stopped by the walls, and then they disappear.

I turn my head to see what's making the waves, even though I already know. Gokudera's lounging at the edge of the pool, his graffiti-print board shorts soaked and sticking to his thighs. He looks sleepy as he gently swings his legs through the water, sending ripples skittering toward Tsuna. Tsuna squeaks a little when the cold water rises up to his neck, and he shoots up on his tiptoes. I laugh without meaning to, and I feel kind of bad until Tsuna laughs, too.

"Having any trouble?" I call. Tsuna's just recently started learning how to swim, and he still gets scared in deep water.

"Back off," Gokudera says, answering for Tsuna, but the way he yawns while he says it takes the edge off his warning. That's one thing about Gokudera––he is really close to Tsuna. I mean, _really_ close. They've only known each other a few months, but Gokudera already would do anything for him. Sometimes Tsuna acts like that's a bad thing.

"What's wrong, Gokudera?" I grin when he jerks around so fast to squint at me that his neck cracks. "No offense to Tsuna," I say, "but I think you'll still have plenty of chances to help him learn to swim without me around."

"It's not like I was worried." Gokudera haughtily turns away, his hair ruffling over his neck. "It's not like you're much of a helper, anyway . . . " The sentence hangs awkwardly, and I know Gokudera's trying to think of something mean to call me. He gives up and goes on playing with the water, his eyes falling shut.

I bet he stayed up late with his cat, or maybe fooling around on a computer. Gokudera's smart, so I know he wasn't studying for our upcoming algebra exam. Not to sound like I'm jealous of Gokudera or anything––I'm just telling you about him––but he should be a couple of years ahead in school. He's in eighth grade since he's fourteen, the same as me, but the teachers decided to not skip him to ninth or tenth because he's a foreigner. Yep, he's a mathematician, a science genius, a history buff, and an Italian.

And being Italian is just one reason on a whole list why the girls at school absolutely eat him up.

Oh, yeah, it's true. Surprising? No, not really. I could go on and on about the escapades of the girls versus Gokudera. Name any trait or habit of his––any, no matter which one, and the girls think it's perfectly adorable.

They love that he's Italian. I admit that's kind of neat, but just because he knows a lot of things that we don't about a whole other country. But to be honest, if you didn't know Gokudera isn't Italian, you wouldn't be able to tell. Every once in awhile, when he says some words, I can hear a hint of an accent, but that's it. And sometimes he'll forget a certain word or mix them up; nothing super obvious. Most people don't listen to him talk enough to notice. Not that it's a big deal, anyway.

But oh, wait till you hear _this_ reason for liking Gokudera. This one's even sillier: his hair. According to, let me see, _every_ girl in Namimori Middle School, Gokudera's hair is amazing. That is something I don't understand. As far as I can tell, Gokudera's hair is nothing special. I doubt you've seen it, so I'll try to describe it the best I can.

Gokudera's hair is long and messy, probably because he doesn't brush it, and it sticks out like ruffled feathers around his neck. The clumps in the back are usually hard where he gels it that way all the time. The girls say his hair is silver, but really, who's heard of a kid with white hair? It's just a sort of blond that's so pale and thin that the light shines right through it, and it looks white. He's not a shampoo commercial model, trust me on this.

And if those girls aren't talking about Gokudera's hair or his heritage, they're chatting about his eyes. I don't understand that, either. I know people say "eyes are the windows to the soul" and all that, but my classmates can take that a bit too far. Some of these girls could write a book about Gokudera's eyes. Some of them already have, and the book's called their diary.

This is where my class is split into groups. A few girls think Gokudera's eyes are blue. A few more think his eyes are green. Most of them call it something fancy like "turquoise" or "aquamarine," those wacky names you can find on crayon labels and jewelry and stuff. But really, Gokudera's eyes aren't green or blue or turquoise. I've been close enough to his face to tell. Actually, his eyes are the color of dirty dishwater. Mostly gray, but with little spots of different colors.

But who looks at the color of a guy's eyes, anyway? To tell you the truth, I'd rather have dishwater eyes than pretty blue or green ones. That way, people wouldn't be able to discuss my eyes. In fact, I'd rather be dishwater-ugly all _over._ Then people would have to talk about my inside personality, not my outside.

Well, you'd think that's everything, wouldn't you? Hair, eyes, bloodline . . . But nope. Like I said, I could go on and on. Gokudera's a genius with, um, _silver_ hair and _turquoise_ eyes. He's also got a . . . "trendy fashion sense." Yikes––don't _ever_ accuse me of coming up with that phrase. I've heard it so many times in the school halls that I can't keep count anymore. It comes to my mind automatically.

I'll say one thing, though: I never knew dressing like a Halloween movie star is trendy. You know those stereotypical motorcycle punk dudes, the ones that play rock music really loud at night and spray paint graffiti on garage doors? Gokudera dresses like they do. I can't really remember any specific outfit of his to talk about, which is weird, since we share clothes sometimes when we sleep over.

But Gokudera never goes anywhere without wearing about nine or ten cheap rings, most of them with scary-looking skulls on them. He likes bracelets, too. Papier-mache ones that he makes himself but denies he does, and plastic ones. He also likes necklaces, and he's probably got six dog tags. I think he likes listening to that little jingling sound of the chains clinking together when he walks. He even came to school wearing earrings, once, but that was where the teacher drew the line. Come to think of it, I haven't seen those earrings, since.

I sigh while trying to think of when exactly Gokudera pulled that stunt. I lean back comfortably, and almost fall off the fence. I claw at the air for balance before grabbing the top of the fence, and then I drop to the ground. My heels hit the concrete hard, but better my feet than my head, you know? For maybe half a second I wonder where I would be if my brains were in the bottoms of my feet instead of in my head. I hold my arms out shakily, watching the sky spin, and I feel a little bit like I've swallowed my heart. That's where thinking about girls and Gokudera gets me, I guess.

"Oops! You all right, Clumsymoto?" Gokudera smirks at me, probably thinking he's really clever. I laugh, which I know makes him mad.

"Yep. Thanks," I say. Gokudera bristles when I don't retort. He looks away sulkily, and stays that way, so I go over to sit beside him. He starts to snarl, but decides against it. I kick off my sandals and dip my feet into the chilly water, too. A swirly green thing floats by, and we both watch it until it disappears.

"Sorry you're mad."

Gokudera shrugs off my apology. "Whatever. Not like you could make me mad. Dingbat."

"Ha! Really funny, Gokudera. You're a funny, funny guy." I ball up my fist and slug him in the shoulder, and he yelps. He scrunches up his eyes and nose in a scowl, and he looks kinda like a monkey that just took a gigantic bite of a rotten banana. That just makes me laugh even harder, and I double over, gasping to breathe.

"Good grief!" Gokudera says, shaking his head in exasperation. He scoots away from me, plain as day telling the world, "This guy is nuts. I have absolutely nothing to do with him."

Tsuna splashes his way to the edge of the pool and crawls out, his fingers slipping and squeaking over the wet tiles. His hair sticks like glue on his forehead. He reminds me of a drowned cat, all shaky and skinny with its fur drooping.

"Done swimming already?" I say. Tsuna nods, his teeth chattering. I cuff his shoulder to encourage him.

"You're doing good, buddy. Pretty soon, you'll be a regular fish."

Tsuna tries to smile.

"Hey! What do you think you are, calling the Tenth a stinky old _fish_?"

I stand up, and Gokudera whips his hand out to grab the waistband of my shorts. Wow, he's touchy today––in two different ways. I can't say anything without offending him, see?

"Let go," I say politely. "You're going to yank off my shorts."

Gokudera scoffs. "I'd be doing you a huge favor. They're ugly." He pulls harder, so I stop trying to lean back. I just stand in place, hoping he doesn't tug my shorts off. Just he and Tsuna are here, but that'd still be pretty embarrassing.

I'll bet anything that, if the girls from school saw Gokudera now, they'd either be cheering him on, or be completely disgusted.

"Gokudera?" Tsuna says, shivering. "C––could you maybe... um, let go of Yamamoto, please?"

Gokudera loosens his grip on my shorts at the same time I step forward. The waistband snaps against my skin, which kind of _hurts,_ and then–– _skree!_ My foot slips in the puddle that's collecting around Tsuna, and my legs shoot right out from under me. I cringe and wait for my backside to shatter when I hit the cement, but when I land, there's no explosion or bits of concrete crumbling. Instead, there's one gigantic splash.

I beat my arms through the water like a rabid windmill and bob up to the surface, chlorine stinging my eyes. I float there for a minute, blink, and try to glare at Gokudera in the same way he glares at me. That lasts about two seconds, then I start laughing again. This time, Gokudera laughs, too. It sounds soft––or maybe that's just water clogging my ears.

"You should apologize," I tell him.

He tosses his head. "Two accidents in one day. That's not my fault. Seems like you're just butterfingers everywhere but the baseball field."

Tsuna looks at me anxiously. He's probably scared that Gokudera and I will get into a huge fight. I won't let that happen, though. I'd much rather get along with Gokudera––even if it is a lot of fun to watch his face turn red when he gets mad.

An idea strikes me. "Hey, Gokudera. Come here." I tread water while he rolls his eyes and reluctantly stands up.

"If you can't help yourself out of the pool, Yamamoto, there can't be much else you can–– _argh_!"

Gokudera shouts as I grab his outstretched hand and pull. He lurches forward and plunges right beside me, water flying everywhere and drenching Tsuna for the second time. I watch Gokudera carefully and paddle back when he reaches the top of the water. He spits and hacks, and I feel sorry for him. Just a little, anyway; these pool chemicals tear up my throat all the time.

"I... am going to _kill_ you." Gokudera forces this out of the side of his mouth through his clenched teeth, reminding me of a gangster. A cold, wet, humiliated angry gangster. He pushes his sopping globs of hair away from his forehead to uncover his eyes, which by now are pretty much just slits.

I don't feel like laughing anymore, so I start to swim to the far edge of the pool where the water is more shallow. Maybe it will be harder for Gokudera to drown me there. I'm hoping. But I can hear the water churning as Gokudera fiercely swims after me, and suddenly he dives. I freeze in place, and start to sink, but my toes brush against the tile bottom of the pool. I hold out my arms for balance, and wonder if this is how people feel knowing there's a shark circling them.

"Hey, Gokudera?" I say nervously. "I was just playing. No need to be mad."

Gokudera's hands wrap around my leg, and he tries to throw his weight back. That must be difficult underwater, but _sploosh_! Down I go anyway, falling right on top of Gokudera. Instinctively I fold my arms around his neck, because I refuse to lose this little fight. We tumble through the water like cats in a spat, but you know? It's fun.

I finally roll so I'm sitting on Gokudera's belly. I smack my hands onto his cheeks to hold his head below the water, and he starts blindly clawing at me. I stare at him carefully. His cheeks turns pink, then red, then just as they start to turn purple, I let him sit up. He shoots upright, still halfway under me, and gasps. His hair hangs like pale streamers down his face, but he doesn't even wipe it away. His face is so red I can't even see the faint freckles on his nose. There are faint crisscrossing veins in his flaming cheeks.

He sits and breathes for awhile, his chest swelling and falling. He doesn't say anything, and I start to get scared. Did I hurt him? Will he have to go the hospital for oxygen? I chew on my tongue while I wait for him to say something.

Finally, Gokudera tips his head back and scrapes his fingers through his hair, trying to look a little dignified. He glares at me, and I realize I'm not worried anymore.

"Will you kindly get _off_ of me? Before I make you regret being born?"

"Huh?" Then I understand. "Oh! Sorry." I stand up, and water pours off me and runs in rivulets down my legs. Gokudera stares, then catches himself. He turns his head and snorts, and even though he can breathe okay now, his face turns just a bit pinker.

I press my lips together to hide my grin while I clamber out of the pool. Tsuna looks at me like I've gone insane. Maybe I have. All I know is that, no matter how tough Gokudera is, I have him wrapped around my little finger.


End file.
